15MalpensaLecco

16LeccoOnno

17MandelloReggio nell'Emlia

30MilanWichita

1 October

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Europe Trip #7

Shortly after last year's trip, I planned for two trips to Italy this year. The first one (in
June) was through France and
then to Wales. Therefore (it follows), this second trip had to be in a different
direction.

At first, I thought I might just ride south the length of Italy, generally on one side of the
Apennines, and then return back north on the other side--a long, skinny loop. Then it occurred to me that I might be able to
string Sicily together with Sardinia and Corsica, which would make the trip more
interesting (and avoid the less preferred out-and-back). All that remained was to check
the ferry schedules to see if this would be possible. It was; it is.

Texas

If you want to fly to Milan, one flight makes sense:
Continental (now United) flight 44 from Newark. There are a few other
choices to get to Newark.

The Houston airport seems most noteworthy for the miles-long walk (it
always seems) to get to where you need to be--and that includes using their
elevated train.

Waiting in the lounge.

New Jersey

My white B767 looks pretty generic.

The flight leaves in the evening, so you're fed dinner. An hour before
landing, breakfast is served. In between, you've got to try to catch
at least a few hours of sleep.

Italy

Milan is one airport where you can walk all the way from the
airplane to baggage pick-up and then walk out of the airport with only the pause
to wait for the baggage handlers to catch up. Passport control is practically a pass-through
thing, and there is no customs to bother with.

I scanned the train schedule on the wall and elected to take the bus.
If your timing is right, the train will have you in Milan, faster and
smoother. The
advantage of the bus is that there is always at least one waiting at the
curb with the driver in front selling tickets (it's cheap).

The bus drops you off at the side entrance of the Milan train station. There are lots of
self-service ticket machines available to get the ticket for the regional train
(they accept American credit cards).

I've always been impressed that these trains cruise at 80mph.

In general, I prefer to stay at a different place prior to starting my
trips. But, Lecco is such an easy place to start that I returned to the
same hotel that I used a couple of years ago.

Hotel Albert faces Lake Como and it is an easy walk from the train
station.

This is Saturday, so there's a busy open market selling food and all sorts of
other things of varying quality (with possibly genuine labels).

The Azzone Visconti bridge was built in 1338.

Ah... Lake Como.

That's the San Nicola tower in the background (San Nicola is the patron saint
of Lecco).

Bits and pieces of the original fortified walls around Lecco are still
visible.

My day started Friday before sunrise in Kansas and finished after sunset,
Saturday on Lake Como.

A display of vintage racing motorcycles was being set up the next
morning.

Yes; everything else might be rare and valuable, but when shown next to an
original Moto Guzzi V8 Grand Prix racer from the fifties, they are common.
That Guzzi is a stunning achievment.

One of the few plans I had for this trip was to take the ferry to Onno,
then find a trail that would take me to the top of the mountain that divides
the two legs of Como. I wasn't sure where to look for the trail, but
I knew that there just had to be something. Had to be.

These lovely passenger ferries were launched in the mid-fifties.

Onno is ten or so miles north of Lecco. It's actually just across the
lake from Mandello del Lario (south of Bellagio).

My idea was to just walk through town to the base of the mountain cliff and
look around for a trail head.

Yes; there is a trail. In fact, it looks like there are three paths
to the top. Not knowing one from the other, I picked trail #1.

This was sometimes a difficult trail to follow. There were occasional
painted marks, but not nearly enough. For the most part, I think I
was on the right path all the way to the top.

In several places, the trail was so steep that a chain had been provided.
Without the chain, you'd be grabbing for trees and bushes and an out-cropping of
rocks and would likely still be on your knees much of the time. I always gave
the chain a good tug before trusting it--they've been here many years.

Part way up.

Is this really the trail? Well, here's the chain, so it must be.

Really? Yes. Perhaps you can see the chain near the center (above
and to the left) of the
photograph.

It always was reassuring to spot one of the painted trail marks. I
routinely looked behind me as there might be a painted mark facing the other
way.

Slipping would be bad.

It's time to sit down and rest. It seems I'm never going to reach the top.
I should have brought some water...

Looking back across the lake to Mandello del Lario.

Goats! Don't follow me; I'm more lost than you...

At the top I was rewarded with a paved road. Walking never seemed so
easy. Then I plunged back down along a different path.

While still quite steep, the path down was pretty easy to follow and didn't
involve any chains. This was pleasant going even if my knees were
objecting by the end.

I think I'll just grab this tree while I walk around this corner. It
would be a long, rough, slide down the hill.

There were a few rough one-room stone buildings down lower. What an effort to
hand-locate all these stones to pave the path.

I'm heading back to Onno. Just 3 km to go; almost there.

The ferry back to Lecco arrived just as I reached the dock. I didn't
even need to pause. These are the mountains on the other side of the lake.
Perhaps next time I'll look for a trail to the top of this side. It's a
certainty that there will be several.

I'd have to have pizza at least once on the trip. This is it. In
Italy, only children have their food sliced for them.

Monday morning I'd catch the train from Lecco to Mandello del Lario.
This is now routine: unpack both yellow duffle bags I've been carrying,
and repack into the smaller. I'd be wearing the riding suit, boots and
helmet, so the one bag was more than sufficient. As always; straps, not
bungee cords.

Additionally, I attached the small Garmin battery-powered GPS to the
handle-bar. I used that on the earlier trip this year and it was very
helpful. I'd need it for this trip.

This is the same bike I had back in June (and it probably still had some of
my same grime). Nicola had already made sure that the windshield
and seat were adjusted the way I like, and he had removed the saddle-bags
and the rear trunk.

The upper limit of Lake Como. I stopped here just to make sure
everything was in order and I had a destination.

Other than the general direction of riding all the way down Italy and across
to Sicily, I had no preplanned route. However, I did want to take a little
detour to ride over San Marco pass, which is to the east of the lake. The
pass isn't
really on the way to anything, so I'd need to take some effort to get there.
It's a lovely route with virtually no traffic.

The road is about 1½ lanes wide. On a motorcycle, that's hardly
anything to think about.

The cool air is nice as the road descends through the clouds. It was
going to be a warm day.

San Pellegrino Terme. The large brick building is a hotel.

South of Bergamo the Po River valley is flat and agricultural. It
hardly made much difference which roads I took, just so long as I headed mostly
south and east.

Cingia de' Botti. Any road is fine, so long as it isn't the Autostrada.

Reggio nell'Emilia is between Parma and Modena. This sixties-looking
hotel would work just fine. It's close enough to the center of town that
I'd be able to walk. I've learned that in the off-season (which is now),
the price of a three-star hotel such as this one isn't going to be any
different than a lesser hotel.

Prawns and noodles followed by some sort of fish.

Getting through Modena and Bologna along the secondary roads was not looking
like much fun. Traffic is a mess and this is the more industrial area of
Italy. The autostrada was the best choice. I'd put down some quick
miles and then take the exit at Imola (shown).

The days when I could swipe my credit card at an Italian pump are gone.
I'm afraid our American cards are not welcome in these machines. However,
if you fill at the full-service pump you can still pay the man with your
old-fashioned credit
card--he probably still has the equipment.

Dropping south into the countryside of Emilia Romagna was such an improvement
over the industrial landscape I'd been riding all morning. This is a
gorgeous area.

Modigliana. Let's stop and look at the map to figure out where I'm
going. Yes; I use a GPS, but I never set my destination all that far away
that I don't need to keep referencing the map to decide my next plan. With
this technique, it's a rare thing that I would ever actually reach the
destination that I've plugged into the GPS. Generally, I change my mind
well before I reach that point.

The GPS is most useful for getting me through a town (few of which have
any road signs).

I might have been on this road for an hour without seeing any traffic.

How many centuries ago did somebody clear enough area to create these
farms?

Galeata.

I found a place to eat at the corner of that orange building (above).
It's sort of a pizza on flat bread. No idea what it's called; but, it's a
good lunch (with whatever is in that glass). I'm always looking at
maps--my standard reading material at mealtime.

I've come to expect this. Midway through the second day, fatigue hits
me. I'll take an hour for a nap, and that solves the problem for the rest
of the trip. Spread open, my riding suit makes a good blanket, and my
gloves and silk scarf make a good pillow.

Emilia Romagna has some of the best roads in Italy.

Papigno.

I reached Rieti at a good time to stop. But, man, this was a
difficult place to find and reach a hotel. The center of town is just
a maze of ultra-narrow roads that are often one-way that it seemed
impossible that I'd ever figure it out. I'm almost convinced that
there are some areas of this town that cannot be reached.

But, I did find something eventually, and the Europa Hotel is a good one.
Notice the cars parked "across the street" from the hotel entrance. This
might have been the nicest hotel room of my entire trip.

I'm getting deeper into some rugged mountains.

Gioia dei Marsi is at the upper end of an unexpectedly flat area surrounded
by mountains. There was a fair amount of burning (stubble from crops?) so
the air was quiet hazy.

Gioia Vecchio and the road to get there.

Opi. The road I'm on skirts around the high hill, so I didn't ride
through Opi.

Dense forests of hardwood trees.

Villetta Barrea.

Barrea. It becomes expected, but the towns are generally built perched
at the top of hills. The flat valleys are where the crops are grown, but
the people live up high. I can only guess that this was a pretty violent
place at one time.

Alfedena. The road I'm on will descend down to the town.

Near Acquaviva D'isernia.

A friend grew up in the small town of Foresta, near Isernia. He still
has relatives who live there. I'd stop for a short visit to extend
his greetings, and then continue riding south.

Aunt Luigina is a wonderful woman who insisted that I stay for dinner at
the very least; but, I just couldn't stay... Perhaps, the next time.

Cousin Adelina and her husband Antonio showed me around the town.

It doesn't take long to walk around the town of Foresta.

Cerro Al Volturno is just down the hill from Foresta.

There's been some remarkable road construction in the last several years.

This is not my favorite kind of road (heavy truck traffic for one thing);
but, sometimes you need to put down some miles.

The Grand Hotel Telese is a 19th century hotel that isn't the sort of place
that I would normally be staying at. But, as I have said, in the
off-season every hotel is pretty much priced the same.

Riding south and towards the west, I'd be picking up a series of obscure
roads. Just so long as they pointed in the general direction they'd work
fine.

Near Castello del Lago.

All I can figure is that everybody is someplace else on a much more modern
highway. In any case; they're not here.

On occasion, I'd have doubts that the road would continue to be paved; but,
that was never a problem. In Kansas, you cannot trust a poorly paved road
not to turn to dirt. But, I've found in Europe a paved road will not let
you down (provided you're not riding straight into the Alps)

There's the Mediterranean. Let's go there.

Agropoli.

Sea creatures, again, and some sort of mushroom and meat dish.

80 kph? Nobody goes that slowly.

Near San Severno.

It turns out that the road through this canyon is closed (for reasons not
clear), so I headed into the hills on a variety of smaller roads.
Eventually, I did end up where I wanted to be.

And, where I wanted to be is here. Notice the road tunnel near the
water's edge.

Lentiscosa.

The lines that you can just see along the hillside? Stone walls and
terraces. The hills are covered with them.

San Giovanni a Piro.

Sapri.

This is a pretty crazy road. Lots of short tunnels, lots of hanging
cliffs. Miss a turn; get wet.

Praia a Mare. I'd stay at the Joli Hotel. It was not a good idea
to keep that window open. The next morning my forehead and right side of my face had a red
polka-dot appearance that would remain for the next several days.

I'd see a number of these pillboxes on this trip. You wouldn't want to
be the soldier posted inside this; but, then you wouldn't want to be the soldier
told to attack this, either. I assume this dates from the second world
war.

I'd be finishing out the ride south by riding along the coastline.

Vibo Marina.

Villa San Giovanni. While I packed a schedule of various ferries
between Sicily and Sardinia and between Corsica and the mainland, I never
bothered looking up the ferry options across the Messina straight. That's
a good thing; because I would only have been confused.

As I rode to the terminus, there were signs for three different ferry
companies. I picked one and stayed with it. Tickets were for
sale at the biglietteria, and then I got in line. It was not a long
wait.

It was just less than an hour across. I was impressed by the amount of
shipping traffic through the straights. No wonder people have been
fighting over this particular bit of water for thousands of years.

Sicily

Messina. These people are crazy! This is a fair-sized city, and
the ferry puts you right in the heart. Broad boulevards, but no lane
stripes. Cross streets, but no signals and no round-a-bouts. It's a
free-for-all. I took the first street heading south and just kept pushing
away from whatever looked busy.

In time, I hit the autostrada, and that whisked me away from the
problem.

I already knew that I would need to make fairly good time while in
Sicily. This was late Friday, and I needed to be in Palermo by
Saturday evening to catch the weekly ferry to Sardinia. There was a backup
ferry that left the next day from Trapane, but doing that would put needless
pressure on the rest of the trip. I needed to be in Palermo.

Fiumefreddo di Sicilia. I wanted to see Mount Etna, and in general, it made
sense to ride across the central spine of Sicily instead of staying on the
coast. Many of the attractions are along the coast; but, I suspect old
rural Sicily is in the middle.

Linguaglossa.

If you only compared the color of the towns, you would know you were in
southern Italy and not the north. The paving stones of this sort are
common. Slippery when wet; but, that wasn't a problem on this trip.

Stones and more stones. There is an abundance of proper-sized stones
for making fences and houses. Just walk out into any field and you'll have
all you need. Over the centuries great piles have been created, and still
the fields are littered with stones.

Randazzo is north of Etna. This hotel was built in the early fifties by
the Agip company (home of the six-legged dog). Evidently there were a
number of travelers hotels built as part of their chain of gasoline stations.
That quaint idea is gone, but the hotel remains (as does the Agip station
out front)

I waited a good while for the clouds to clear. I'm hoping that this
isn't to be my only view of the mountain.

Good. The next morning is clear. This shot of Mt Etna is from
near the town of Bronte. I once had an idea of riding towards the summit
and perhaps even hiking to the top, but that will all have to wait for another trip.

These volcanic plugs are pretty common, as are large lava fields. There
have been times when you would not want to be near Mt Etna.

Riding west along some narrow and remote roads.

If you build a house (or a barn) by stacking rocks, it will be there
for many years.

Centuripe. As elsewhere, you build your towns on the tops of the hills;
not, at the bottom.

I was careful with roads like this. At any turn, you might find the
pavement broken up. The Guzzi Stelvio is perfect for this sort of thing.

Agira.

I'd try to memorize the various towns in my direction. The GPS was a
huge help to keep me in the right direction, but I never took its commands as
anything other than a polite suggestion.

Thé is tea and pesca is peach (not fish--that's pesce--which
would be a horrible flavor for tea).

Some really nice swoopy roads along here. The lack of any shoulders is
annoying, but I found the roads so empty that I could just park in the lane
without much worry if I needed to take a photograph.

I understand the things on the left, but do people eat the things on the
right?

I can't fault the signage in Sicily with the exception that the road number is rarely
shown.

Notice the extended elevated portion of the autostrada. Amazing.
Why is it done that way? I've no idea. It looks expensive.

Maintenance might be costly in thirty years, but for now, it's very
impressive.

Is a train with just a single car still a train?

It's either an abbey or a large barn. But, of course, it's on top of
the hill.

Palermo. They were crazy in Messina, and they are crazy in Palermo.
In between these two cities, I didn't find the road manners to be all that bad. Most
remarkable are the cross streets that are uncontrolled. Madness.
Anyway, I found my way easily enough to the ferry terminal. With not too much
more trouble, I also found the building where the tickets are sold.

This ferry would also be tonight's hotel. A nice arrangement that makes
this whole trip possible.

Evidently, the Mediterranean is never as rough as the channel or the
north sea. It wasn't much more than twine that the bike was secured
with.

The nightly washing must always be done.

Goodbye to Sicily.

We're sailing directly west.

Dinner is cafeteria-style and the choice was impressive. I can't
get enough of fresh Parmesan cheese on my pasta. No; it does not shake
out of a green cardboard canister. This being Italy, the selection
of wine is much larger than the selection of soft drinks (they probably keep
a few cans of diet Coke put aside for the Americans).

Sardinia

Cagliari is a good-sized city that I did my best to skirt around. First
thing I noticed is that the drivers are not crazy! Perhaps it's the French
influence from the north.

Seems a bit greener than Sicily.

This radio dish (Sardinia
Radio Telescope) was rotating on its turntable faster than you'd think
appropriate for whatever it is used for--particularly since the angle of tilt
was not changing. Maintenance, perhaps.

Seemed sort of like southern California at times.

I guess I'll just stop right here.

Just like Sicily; Sardinia is the land of rocks.

Left-right-left-right. There are some terrific roads.

Ballao. I needed something to eat, but in Ballao, I didn't stop at a
place that had much more than this. No matter; it was good. No peach
tea, and certainly no wine.

Huge rising cliffs. At times you wondered how the road would get
through.

Not an easy place to put a road.

Arbatax. A curious mix of rocks.

Something good with clams and then another fish of some unknown variety.
The noon meal is taken seriously by everybody. I saw no fast food (and no
fast eaters).

Some roads are wider than others. Nothing was ever less than this one,
however.

Passo Silana had a continental flavor with all the motorcycles and the
restaurant at the summit.

There will be more than a few zigs and zags before this road reaches the
floor.

Dorgali.

We're in the middle of Sardinia.

Put a road across that ridge? Yes.

An ancient burial tower? Observation tower? I suspect any excuse to pile up rocks is
enough.
In other countries, the rocks might be pilfered over the centuries to build
houses. Not here. Rocks are easy.

The
nuraghe [nuˈraɡe]
(plural Italian nuraghi, Sardinian nuraghes) is the main type of ancient
megalithic edifice found in Sardinia, developed during the Nuragic Age
between 1900-730 BC.[1] Today it has come to be the symbol of Sardinia and
its distinctive culture, the Nuragic civilization.

There is no
consensus on the function of the nuraghes: they could have been religious
temples, ordinary dwellings, rulers' residences, military strongholds,
meeting halls, or a combination of the former. Some of the nuraghes are,
however, located in strategic locations – such as hills – from which
important passages could be easily controlled. They might have been
something between a "status symbol" and a "passive defence" building, meant
to be a deterrent for possible enemies.

Buddusò. There have been a few other places (New Zealand comes
to mind) when I was greeted with this offering at the front desk.

A house entranced designed by an eleven year old boy? In any event, it
looks like they gave up.

Bottidda. If you can't build your town on top of the hill, at least you can
build a guarding castle.

Foresta di Burgos. Whatever this once was, there isn't much of it left.
Vegetation will always win in the end.

White donkeys. They were friendly.

Near Sindia. Another burial tower? A watch tower? Or, just
another excuse to pile up some rocks.

That phone booth in the room? That's the shower. Behind the
red removable panel? That's, of course, the toilet.

Cows along main street (of course, it's not called main street). Cats
are more the usual thing.

The bridge is for a walking path (which I took).

My breakfast the next day. A pitcher of coffee and a pitcher of hot
milk. I poured them both together into the mug.

Crossing over the hills and heading to the coast. I'd still be following some
pretty obscure roads.

I never worried when I just parked on the road. Sometimes I
wondered if I hadn't somehow stumbled on a closed road.

Fort de Parciola,
Vivario.

A view of the Mediterranean. In an hour, I'll be down there.

Belgodére.

Yes; there is a village on top of that hill.

Santa Reparata de Balagna. This is a very old church. Not much to
say about the outside, but the inside is impressive.

L'Ile Rousse. There is a ferry that connects to the mainland, but there
was nothing in port when I was here.

The red-checked table has cheese for sale.

The color of the water was amazing. I didn't swim.

Crossing back over the top of Corsica, heading to where the ferry would be
leaving from.

Patrimonio.

I don't know much about the battles that were fought on Corsica during the
second world war. People died on this hill, fighting for it.

Basatia. It was more trouble than it should have been to find the
building where I could buy a ticket. During the previous days, I was
deciding which would be my destination port from Basatia. I had made up my
mind that I would go to Savona, Italy, which would let me spend time riding
through Piemonte, but at the (literally) last second, I told the ticket-agent
that I wanted to go to Toulon, France.

This young couple had been spending a few days on Corsica before returning
to their home in central France. We were waiting together the few
hours until the ferry loaded.

It was an hour late, but eventually we did load. This time, I used my
own straps that I carry to do a better job lashing the bike to the rail.

This cabin did not have a window as did the ferry from Sicily.

Goodbye Corsica.

Dinner onboard...

...and breakfast the next morning. That red car is a BMW Z1, which is
mostly unknown in the U.S.

France

Toulon. Why Toulon? Because I wanted to cross the pass (Col
de la Lombarda) across the Alps into Italy that I had attempted to take a
couple of years ago, but was unable because of snow. There would be no
snow this time of year (I hoped).

Blasting up the motorway to Nice, and then turning north on much more
interesting roads.

When there's a river edged in by cliffs, it cannot be easy to insert a road.

Ever vigilant. Was this French outpost ever in action?

Isola 2000 is just short of the summit on the French side. It's a ski
resort, and one can assume that the "2000" in the name refers to the altitude. I think
most all the people in the small restaurant were maintenance workers for the
resort.

No; I have no idea what I ordered. It was good, and I got
the always-welcomed bowl of fresh Parmesan cheese.

It is a steep climb to the top.

Italy

I am well above the tree line, now. I understand why this road would be
closed if there's much snow. Snow removal would be very difficult.
Likely the resort on the other side of the border is kept open, but the Italian
side is probably ignored.

Oh, man. Turn, turn, turn. Down, down, down.

2010 (closed and more water in the stream) and 2012 (open). In
hindsight, it was for the best that I didn't take this route on that earlier
trip. The road took much longer to ride than I had thought.

Ronchi. Just passing through. The idea was to say south in the
mountainous region of Piemonte rather than the flat land to the north. A
very good plan.

Pollenzo.

This is an old Roman town.

The church has clearly been rebuilt in a more modern style (it's all
relative) in the last couple hundred years. This was once a royal
residence of the kingdom of Savoy.

It is now the home of a culinary arts university.

It's remarkable. The curvature of the old coliseum is still to be seen
in the roads of the town. And the center of the coliseum is now a
vegetable garden.

Breakfast the next morning.

This is such a beautiful area of Italy.

Near Calghera. I'm riding all sorts of secondary roads.

Montelungo.

Nibbiano.

Grapes, grapes, everywhere grapes. The air smelled of grapes.

Badia Pavese for lunch. This was a very pleasant place to stop for
awhile (there is nothing hurried about the noontime meal).

Mandello del Lario. I avoided the major highways back to Bergamo, and
then took the well-marked road to Lecco and then to Mandello.

Another view of the terrific statue of Carlo Guzzi in the center plaza of
town.

A quiet evening in Mandello del Lario.

Yes; there really is a motorcycle factory just a fifteen-minute walk
from here.

Let's look back two weeks. This is Onno.

The trail I took starts to the left of that church tower and follows the
spine all the way to the top. It's apparent from this, that some of
the shots I took looking back at the lake were done at the very edge of a
cliff that dropped a long way down.

The path coming back was over on the left and stayed in the trees the
whole way.

Mamma Ciccia's is where I have always stayed the night of my return.

That's fish on the left, and a salad on the right.

Goodbye to the Moto Guzzi factory and Mandello del Lario.

Arriving at Milan.

I picked a new hotel for this trip. The Hotel Berna is vastly better
than where I had stayed that last several trips. I'll definitely be here
the next time.

These Vodafone ladies are advertising a Picasso exhibit (which I would see).

The Museo D'arte Marinara is a very old-fashioned thing with its paintings
hung to the
ceiling. It was not crowded.

..now, it is really raining hard. Good.

Reverse the process. Walk to the train station, catch the early morning bus to the airport.

On the Newark-Chicago leg, I'd be upgraded to 1st class, but there's no
chance of that happening on the international leg. This is dinner.

Chicago on a clear afternoon.

It worked!

The only part of this trip that gave me any concern was the
fact that I was depending on catching two very long ferries (including one operating on a weekly schedule) without any
reservations. I thought it would all work out, and it did.

The bike ran flawlessly; I always found a hotel when I needed one; the
traffic was crazy here and there, but mostly avoidable; it all worked out.

notes

Ferry options. I carried this list with me so that I could
better judge where I needed to be and when I needed to be there.
The ones taken are marked.

I anticipate that a Chip-and-PIN (or EMV) credit card system will be
available next year. None of the fuel pumps would accept my card
with the magnetic stripe. Some would take cash (before pumping),
but you'd better guess right as they do not give change (except in the
form of a refund slip--useable only at that location).

My SPOT locater device stopped working in Corsica. I suspected
it might have been due to a bad battery (I changed the batteries that
morning). For the rest of the trip, I looked for lithium AAA
batteries, but never saw that type. I tried a large consumer
electronics store (similar to Best Buy), but even that store did not
have any lithium batteries. Only when I got home was I able to
replace the battery--and the device worked perfectly.

Is it possible to find bad food in an Italiano ristorante? No;
I don't think so.